


tea of despair, window of hope: why did i fall in love?

by Lindsflea



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minecraft, Pining, Streams, This kinda sucks, Twitter, Unrequited Love, but its a vibe, dream and george are dense idiots, sapnap is the only smart one, well that's what george thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindsflea/pseuds/Lindsflea
Summary: Looking back on it, it should have been obvious. The way George’s cheeks always tinted the same familiar hue at his suggestive jokes, or the way George’s smile changes when directed at Dream; when his eyes crinkle at the edges and he maneuvers his lips up into a jovial semicircle, delicately enraptured with a gentle fondness reserved for Dream and Dream only. The way their dynamic together is completely different from anyone else, and how the fans devour at it and have it blossom into thousands of works of pure art; something so unique and beautiful that was inspired by their duo alone. The fans have seen it for months, and George is just now learning to open his eyes at it.And realise that he is truly, utterly, fucked.///////After a rather uncomfortable stream, George comes to realisation that he has feelings for his best friend - and that said feelings may never be reciprocated.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 24
Kudos: 239





	1. why did i fall in love?

**Author's Note:**

> soooo, i speedran this in two days and honestly i hate how it turned out lmao. in all honestly here, it's kind of just practice for angst and feeling realisations. (may or may not be drafting a full-fledged AU dnf fic) 
> 
> reminder if the cc's ever express discomfort about fanfiction, this will be taken down. respect their boundaries!

George wakes up with a start at a rather abnormal time of the day, retreating from his slumbers at around five in the afternoon. He rubs his eyes and slips out of the comforting sheets of his mattress, lazily heading towards the door of his bedroom to enter his newfound office.

The cold winter breeze of England snuck its way through the window of George’s office before he manages to close it, resulting in goosebumps to trail their way up his pale arms. Shivering, he retreats back to his desk to power up his sleeping monitor. His phone buzzes across the room with a new notification from Twitter, but he doesn’t bother to check it. 

Shaking his mouse a little, the PC lights up with a sudden bright flash of color, illuminating George's face. Squinting, he opens up Discord and relishes in the darker shade it occupies. Much better.

He glances across the screen and sees that he has two new messages; one from Dream and the other from Quackity.

Something warm stirs in his senses when he read’s Dream little Discord username, rushing through his body and pooling into his heart like golden honey. That was new, albeit he was not opposed to it.

Opening up Dream's first then Quackity's, he reads them to himself and sighs.

**Dream** **  
** **today at 4:20 PM** **  
** _ i’ll clear up some of the hysteria on twitter in a bit. do the fans have to overreact at every little thing that happens? lmao _

**quackity** **  
** **today at 4:36 PM  
** _ heya george! up to join my stream later today? just some jackbox with the gang _

Ignoring Dream's message, he types out a quick reply to Quackity.

**George** **_  
_ ** **today at 5:16 PM** **_  
_ ** _ sure, give me a time and i'll be there:]  _

In all honesty, George really didn't feel up to joining any sort of stream today. Last night had definitely taken a toll on his motivation and simultaneously sent Twitter into shambles. On top of all that, it probably was the answer to how he felt when he read out Dream’s stupid little username too.

______

He Dream, Karl, and Bad had been messing around on the SMP, as per usual. George was streaming and everything seemed to be fine for the time being. 

Then, the donations started rolling in.

George appreciates his donations and devoted fans so much. Besides Dream and the others, they're the reason he has fame and can keep a stable financial life whilst rarely ever leaving the comfort of his own home. 

But sometimes, the fans definitely get carried away. And last night was undoubtedly one of those times.

The first few donations were kind and simple. George had no trouble answering them, and he reverted back to fooling around with the other SMP members straight away. 

Then, the next donation came through. 

It was a generous donation, actually. A large sum of one hundred dollars was given to George on top of the rather unsettling message it contained.

"Insert Username Here- creative name, says: ‘We see the way you act around Dream, George-’ hah- what? ‘just admit it, you’re ho-hopelessly in love with him?’”

George's tone had started off carefree and relaxed as usual, but as he read off the rest of the donation he faltered and stuttered at his words.

His facecam was an embarrassing sight to see too. His face had involuntarily turned a bright shade of pink, abnormally standing out against the natural pale shade of his skin, and his chocolate eyes widened, momentarily unblinking. 

Time seemed to stop as he processed what he just read out loud. Hopelessly in love with Dream? His head would automatically deny it, but the stuttering of his heart and the fluttery feeling in his stomach says otherwise.

Then it hit him. Hard. The excruciating amount of fondness he’s felt over the years for his best friend. The way his eyes always soften and his mouth always curves upwards into a smile when he joins a call or a server with him. The constant flirtatious banter they throw back and forth for the bit, but it still unintentionally makes him feel something more than his natural serenity. How he always wants to talk to Dream, and would choose him over anyone else in a heartbeat, despite how rude that could seem. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so unbelievable anymore.

Hopelessly in love with Dream.  _ Huh _ . 

His body had turned into a blizzard; the flurry of snowflakes blocking his capability to think properly and the incoming storm freezing up his body like a popsicle.

So there he sat. Abnormally still on stream, unable to process anything that was happening around him, save for the tsunami of thoughts drowning the inside of his head. For over 50,000 viewers to see. 

"George!" Dream suddenly exclaimed, cutting through George's headphones and snapping him out of his trance. “Are you AFK or something? Get over here!” George sobered up immediately and laughed it off like it was another joke.

"No- right, of course. Thanks for the hundred.” His voice was shaky, but it deemed normal enough to keep up his false façade of serenity. 

Unfortunately, his chat wouldn't let it go. It was running at a rampage, all of them either spamming "DNF" or commenting on George's expression. The poor moderators had to keep it on emote only for the rest of the stream. 

George definitely felt uncomfortable after that slip up. He abruptly ended the stream around half an hour later and promptly collapsed on his desk, head in his hands and groaned.

"George, you good?" Karl's voice spoke up and George regretfully remembered he was still on call. 

"Yeah, 'm fine," he muttered, hoping it was believable enough. 

He grabbed his water bottle from his desk and took a large swig while Karl continued speaking. 

"You still up for streaming with me?" 

"Of course." That was a lie. 

He heard Karl clap his hands together in excitement. "Awesome! Dream? Bad? You guys joining?" 

"I wouldn't miss it," Bad happily replied. There was silence from Dream's end. 

"Dream?" Karl inquisitively asked.

"Right- sorry," Dream replied, sounding distracted. "Twitter is kind of a mess right now."

"Why?" Bad inquired.

"See for yourself." 

Dream screen shared his Twitter page and George had opened it up on Discord only to see, to his horror, screenshots of his face paired with curious excitement or stupid theories. His breathing hitched and his face went ten shades paler than usual. How stupid could he have been? Of course everyone was going to freak out about that.

"Huh," Karl murmured, seemingly lost in thought. "What's up with that?" 

"Yeah," Bad agreed. "George?" 

With the conversation directed towards him, George had panicked. Blood rushed to his face at high speeds at the mere thought of talking about what was going on in his head during the stream.

"I-" he started, then stopped. How was he supposed to explain to them what had happened if he barely could understand it himself?

Instead, he muttered a lame excuse about being tired and left the call. 

Ignoring the plethora of messages that came from the group, he instead opened up Twitter and stared down at his face from the stream the majority of his sleepless night, thoughts plagued with his mess up and a certain green and white skinned speedrunner.

______

  
**quackity** **  
** **today at 5:22 PM** **  
** _ it’ll be around 5pm my time! i'll let you know like 20mins before i start _

Eyes glazed over, George shakes his head to clear out the memory and begins to process the jumble of vowels and consonants Quackity sent splayed out across his screen. 

He types out a curt "see you then" and hits send. 

Yawning, George stretches back against his chair and sprawls his arms out over his head and up in the air. He really should work on fixing his sleep schedule. 

At risk of dozing off, he retreats from his desktop and starts to head towards the kitchen, but stops at the window upon realising it was open again.

"Strange," he murmurs to no one in particular, and closes the window again, shrugging the obscurity of it off and heading in a beeline towards the tea kettle. 

While brewing his tea, his phone pings again, signifying another Twitter notification from Dream; he's the only person he has his ringer on for.

And then another.

And another.

And a few more. 

Belatedly, George retreats the tea kettle and picks up his phone from the windowsill it sat upon. 

As expected, it was a Twitter thread on his second account discussing last night's events on George's stream in an attempt to calm everyone down. Props to Dream for dealing with an issue which was solely George's, but George really didn't feel the same gratitude he usually perceived when Dream took the hit on things like these.

It was strange, to say the least. Dream's words always calmed him down in a sense. Whether with problems like these, casual banter, or something more, he always felt soothed at how his words stitched everything together back into a sense of perfect normalcy. But looking at the Twitter thread now, the words make him feel bitter while the person behind the words makes his heart flutter. George doesn't know how to feel about it.

_ george and i aren’t dating and have no plans to. _

Sighing, George pockets his phone away and resumes making his tea. 

As he listens to the kettle’s whistle, it distantly reminds him of Dream’s famous wheeze. As he shuffles around the kitchen impatiently, it makes him recall the countless times Dream has complained about the RNG in Minecraft never satisfying his needs and thus taking a toll at his time on speedruns. As he fiddles around with the hem of his hoodie, it helps him remember that he ordered one of Dream’s merch hoodies a few days ago, perhaps as a way to help himself feel closer to the man. And as the tea kettle coughs out its last Dream-like wheeze and readies his tea, he can’t help but wonder why his thoughts have been plagued with Dream, Dream,  _ Dream _ . 

Shaking his head, he pours himself a cup of tea, spilling some of the warm auburn liquid over the countertop. He curses his clumsiness and himself. 

______

Hours later, George was busying himself by finally editing a video he’s been putting off for months. His tea sits idly by his keyboard, it now being room temperature and thus not as enjoyable as when he first made it. His monitor reflects a past recording of him, Dream, and Sapnap, where they try to beat Minecraft, but they were always swarmed by silverfish. It was a fairly difficult challenge, actually. But they did manage to get a lot of good content out of it, deeming it to be an entertaining video once George edits the clips together. 

Just as he was about to go into hyperfocus mode to get this over and done with, he hears the ping of a discord notification. 

**Dream**

**today at 10:35 PM**

_ hey, you okay? felt like it was worth asking cause you did just disappear on everyone last night lol _

Time seems to slow as he registers that Dream messaged him again. 

George wanted to tell him no. He wanted to prattle on and on about how he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened on stream last night, couldn’t stop thinking about  _ him _ ; he wanted to tell him everything, talk to him about anything; he wanted to talk to him, and no one else. He wanted to rattle on for ages with him; talk about his dreams and nightmares, how his day is going and how his past ones went, new video ideas and reminisce on his favorites.

He  _ wanted- _

George facepalmed and groaned. What has gotten into him? 

He relaxes his hands on the keyboard and hastily types out a reply.

**George**

**today at 10:37 PM**

_ hey, i’m okay. just tired, nothing unusual! thanks for checking in, i appreciate it:] _

Normal enough, he decided. 

Dream responded almost right away.

**Dream**

**today at 10:38 PM**

_ okay, good! just checking in <3 _

That stupid heart emoticon; it does something to George that he can’t quite name.

He reacts with a thumbs up emoji and leaves it at that. He can’t bring himself to reply; his mind is running a marathon, on its way to break the world record. His cheeks are flushed and dusted in a pretty pink tint, and his heart is practically thundering inside of his chest. He has never felt this  _ much _ before towards his best friend, but that donation and Twitter mess last night set something in his mind aflame. Never in a million years would he dream to be feeling this way, thinking about this sort of stuff, when it came to Dream. 

But was it really so all of a sudden? 

Looking back on it, it should have been obvious. The way George’s cheeks always tinted the same familiar hue at his suggestive jokes, or the way George’s smile changes when directed at Dream; when his eyes crinkle at the edges and he maneuvers his lips up into a jovial semicircle, delicately enraptured with a gentle fondness reserved for Dream and Dream only. The way their dynamic together is completely different from anyone else, and how the fans devour at it and have it blossom into thousands of works of pure art; something so unique and beautiful that was inspired by their duo alone. The fans have seen it for months, and George is just now learning to open his eyes at it.

And realise that he is truly, utterly, fucked.

George pays no mind to his tea placidly cooling by the second, or the fact that the damned window opened on its own again, instead suffocating inside of his head and trying to make amends to the haphazard debris littered across his mindscape. 

______

At around one in the morning, Quackity’s stream starts. George joins the Discord call last, where the others were waiting for him. Greeted by a plentitude of greetings, he loosens up as best as he can when the stream chat starts filing in.

The stream starts off fine. The five of them, George, Quackity, Bad, Sapnap, and Karl, are all messing around and having a good time making stupid jokes and pandering around on Jackbox. Luckily, no one brings up what happened on George’s stream the other night, neither from his friends nor the chat.

George relaxes against his chair, relishing in the soft comfort it generously gives to his back. He takes a sip of his now ice cold tea and grimaces. Despite its lackluster taste, it did its job of keeping him conscious throughout the evening and now in the middle of the night.

"George, you're up!" he hears through his headphones. Grabbing his phone and getting back into the game, he reads off his poorly planned out rap versus Sapnap with as much false arrogance he can muster. Going off the crude lines of him 'wrecking his mum', he isn't too confident he'll beat Sapnap's surprisingly well thought out rhyme of 'British bean who can't see green.' 

"That was terrible, George. Absolutely awful." Sapnap mocks.

"Really? I didn't notice." he deadpans in return, resulting in a multitude of laughs. 

Predictably, Sapnap wins that round, making George last place between the five of them. Gentle teasing ensues, which George immediately reciprocates with his own offhand comments. The stream chat eats it up like candy.

During the brief intervention between games, a distinct melody echoes in the call, signaling someone else has joined. 

“I heard we’re playing some Jackbox?” Dream’s voice says, announcing his entrance to the group.

"Dream!" Quackity enthusiastically greets.

"Hello!" Dream replies in the same tone. 

Multiple greets follow. George tunes everyone out but Dream and harnesses in the way that his smooth Floridian accent laces his pronunciation in such a way that makes the Brit's heart stutter and legs feel like jelly. Zoning out, he succumbs to the flurry of emotions rising and blooming in his heart and releases out a sigh of content.

_ Hopeless. _

"-orge?" he hears once he grounds himself back on the grasses of reality. 

"Hey! Hi, Dream," he panics. 

Dream chuckles at that, and George swears he can hear ringing in his ears.

"Hiya, Georgie." 

Before George can even register the nickname, Sapnap's voice picks up.

"Damn, there's literally four other people here and we're all still third wheeling."

"Language!" 

Ever so grateful for Bad’s familiar comment and the resuming of normal conversation, George escapes the friendly discussion and instead tries to focus on what his answers will be for Quiplash. Determined to redeem himself from the rather embarrassing last place he acquired on Mad Verse City, he tries to think of something clever and witty to say.

But upon realisation of his unhealthy pining towards his best friend, his mind is still stuck on a broken record of just Dream, Dream, Dream. 

Unsurprisingly, all of George’s answers are filled with something Dream related. No one comments on it, because why would they? The group always does things like this; leveling their answers to match the ideals of the audience, and trying to rack up as many votes as possible. George played it off as just that, despite it being an outright lie. But he is not about to let thousands of people know that he can’t seem to get the Florida man out of his head. 

“You,  _ so  _ cheated George!” he hears Quackity complain, after George racks up the highest amount of points after the first two rounds. 

“How so?” he asks, playing dumb. 

“All your answers were Dream related, you clout chaser!” he lightheartedly snaps.

“Dream, Dream! Do your shoes need shining?” Karl mocks. 

“They do, actually.” Dream replies. George and a few others giggle.

The final round starts, which has everyone answer in sayings of three instead of just one. George couldn’t focus. He was doing so well the first two rounds, but everything just plummeted from there. 

He was an active volcano.  _ This  _ close to erupting; this close to blowing everything up and destroying whatever border stood in the way between his feelings of molten lava and revealing them to the world. It felt all so sudden, but it really was a build up after months of hidden pining. He was going to spout, going to gush out the spiels of what he has been keeping to himself the entire day. Similar to a volcano, it would ruin everything. Damage cities and houses alike, injure anyone in its path and serve no mercy. This wasn’t child’s play - it was the cruel, harsh reality of realisation and recognition. George despised it. 

The round was over and George had nothing. He left the prompts empty, a huge contrast to everything locked inside his mind. The key to reveal was in his reach.

“What the honk, George? Why didn’t you put anything?”   
  
“Maybe he went AFK and forgot to tell us.”

“George literally just died on us here.”

“Georgie poo? What’s wroooooong?”    
  
“Gogmeister! You will reign this game no longer!”

“George?”

The metaphorical key shines. It glimmers underneath the starlight of desire and want, ensuring new opportunities and gentle promises. George can not fall for it. He will not.

The voices of everyone mushes together until only one was comprehensible. 

“George, you’re kind of being a bit silent here.”

Dream, that Floridan fucker. Once again, his tone laced with concern and rooted at the stem with years of friendship that hardly ever fails to soothe George, in more ways than one. The fact that he cares, and the fact that George cannot hear him or see his Minecraft character without thinking of how infatuated he’s been with him and how naïve and dense he was in the past without figuring it out now, is all too overwhelming. 

_ I think I love you,  _ he screams, but it is only heard and echoed inside of his brain. 

George puts his hands on either side of his head and tugs harshly on the roots of his hair, headset falling off in the process, and ducks down as if that was a viable way to escape it all. He wants to scream, to let out his frustrations and emotions all the like. He wants to do anything to just be out of this situation and back in the comfort of his own quiet home, away from the masses of fans and his friends. He wants  _ out _ . 

But his voice pulls him back in. The key shimmers and makes fun of him in the moonlight of divulgence. The window remains open, breezing cold air around him. His tea remains half full and frozen.  _ He’s _ frozen.

The Twitter threads repeat in his mind like a cursed mantra, snippets of it popping up and forcing him to remind himself of the obvious. 

**quit pestering george about what happened on stream, it isn’t any of your concern.**

**you’re allowed to ship us. but don’t throw it in our faces like this, it isn’t respectful towards us or anyone you do it towards.**

**george and i aren’t dating and don’t have any plans to.**

They aren’t dating. They never will date. Dream doesn’t like him in that way. George needs to set everything aside and stop with the false facade of reassurance and hope relentlessly pooling in his mind.

The key continues to mock him. He finally retaliates and throws it away into the abyss of self doubt, now proving to be completely and utterly untouchable. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Earth to George?”

George snaps back. His entire body jostles and his knee hits the desk, resulting in a sharp flash of pain. He grimaces, and pulls his headset back on. 

“I’m here, sorry.” 

He will play the game with his friends, if it kills him. He will log off at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, if it kills him. He will continue his daily routine of wake up, edit, record, stream, if it kills him. He will keep these feelings tucked away, locked up safe inside the deepest roots of his heart, if it kills him. 

He sits, and does just so. He finishes up the game, and promptly collapses on his desk and lets out muffled sobs of despair and regret. His tea mocks him, and the windowsill beckons him. He gives in to neither, and wrenches there, lost. 

It may just kill him. But would it really be that bad?

  
  



	2. dreamin' bout you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dream's pov, but they're still a pair of idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is kind of late! i had no motivation the past few days and suddenly splurged tonight and got this out. hope you enjoy regardless :)
> 
> reminder if the cc's ever express discomfort about fanfiction, this will be taken down. respect their boundaries!

Dream is so scared. 

Terrified. Frightened. Petrified, even. Any other word you can think of that is a synonym for scared.

His thoughts have been plagued with a certain British male ever since his rather unfortunate stream and the events that followed after.

George’s safety and feelings have always been a number one priority for him. He’d be damned if he ever let something happen to the Brit, whether it was a stream slip up or something more serious. He sends out threads upon threads of tweets discussing George and their relationship, just to hopefully form some sort of halfhearted resolve of the incidents that happen between the two of them. George has never really commented directly on how he feels about Dream practically taking charge of things like that, but Dream deems it worth it whenever he sees the Brit the next time he streams, relaxed as usual. 

Dream would be utterly terrified if something ever happened to George. When push comes to shove, he’d move buildings and put his own life on the time for the older male. It was definitely a simp move to do, though Dream would never admit to it, the simp. But really, what sort of life would he have if George was to ever just disappear or feel too pressured to continue with his career? Or worse, if George just stopped talking to Dream in general. Dream would be hopelessly lost. Not only is it that George appears in the majority of his videos, but he is also one of his best friends. The dynamic between him and Sapnap or really anyone else on the SMP would be completely different if George was suddenly gone. It was terrifying to think about, to say the least.

Dream and George’s relationship has been one of the most unpredictable and unexplainable things that Dream hardly understands himself. Neither bat an eye at their flirty banter and joking comments on stream, but off stream they both drink it up and savor the taste of the words as if they have been deprived of water for days. Mindless chatter at ungodly hours of the night and small gestures gently reciprocated between the two are things that Dream holds very close to his heart. Their friendship is powerful, like a thousand suns beating down on a hot day at the beach, and Dream would not trade it for the world. Yet, it is still confusing. He doesn’t feel this way about any of his other friendships, not even Sapnap’s. It’s almost as if this bond he shares with George is reserved for the two of them only and no one else in the world can even come close to fathom how strong it is. And that’s what frightens Dream. 

Steadily, their relationship has changed over time. Not in a bad way; it still holds the same amount of strength and compassion that it has from years past. But, the way their hushed voices whisper sweet things to each other when not on camera and how they always seem so off in their own little world even when hanging around with others is definitely a change. Dream’s bow inside of his heart is aiming towards George, and it lands a direct hit on the brunet’s heart every time it's shot. It feels exciting, just how much flurries through him whenever he hears, sees, or talks to the Brit, and how not so subtlety he’s been noticing all these little changes between the two of them. 

So yeah, Dream is scared. Terrified. Frightened. 

But petrified?

Currently, Dream is resting in his gamer chair, with a lazy head in his right hand as he props his chin up with his arm on his desk. His first monitor is on George’s stream, while his second is ghosting his Merch Discord, slightly amused at how much shit goes down in there. 

It has been a few days since the six of them played Jackbox. Something was definitely up with George in the beginning, and the way he suddenly jumped back in the game and seemed almost emotionless made Dream a little suspicious. He had messaged him about it afterwards, but he only received a few curt reassuring words in reply. That only drove his suspicions even further onto the highway of  _ the fuck is going on with my best friend? _

George was complaining about something to Sapnap whilst the pair were lazily trying to attack Bad with his sword, resulting in a few cheerful protests from the latter. Directing his attention to George’s facecam in the corner of his stream, he sees the man crack a grin at something sarcastic Sapnap just said, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

The TeamSpeak was filled up with multiple different people on the SMP, but Dream couldn’t be bothered to join. It was getting relatively late in Florida, so he would probably head to bed as soon as George finished streaming. 

“Come on Bad,” George’s voice rang through the quiet room of Dream’s office, “just let me kill you!” 

“C’mere Bad!” Sapnap taunted. 

"Wait-wait, that gives me an idea!" George suddenly exclaims. He looks over to the side on his camera, presumably tabbing out of Minecraft and opening another window up. His eyebrows knit and he subconsciously licks his lips, concentration seeping through him. 

Suddenly, George relaxes back into the game as a sharp familiar melody pours through Dream's speakers. Dream almost barks out a laugh as he hears the iconic music he uses for manhunts.

"Du du du du!" Sapnap sing songs, with Bad following suit in between his joking cries of  _ please have mercy!  _ Dream redirects his gaze over to the scene of pixelated blocks before him, watching as Bad gets absolutely destroyed.

"Du du du du," George echoes, and Dream swears he just about had whiplash from how fast he turned his head to look over at George again, pupils blown wide.

The room George is in practically brightens with just his presence alone. He looks absolutely ethereal, and that's with the disadvantage of only seeing him through a facecam. His lips curved upwards into a small smile, and the light returned into his chocolate eyes, leaving them practically sparkling. His hair is slightly disheveled in the most beautiful way and his cheekbones are structured just so perfectly when he smiles he may just be a statue. As his singalong with the song shifted into breathy laughter, and Dream sat there practically  _ ogling  _ his best friend's face, the previously stated petrification ensued.

Dream is in love with his best friend, and he's scared. 

The signs were all there. His feelings are an open book, he just never turned to the right page. Realising it now was so overwhelming. Eyes still wide, he maneuvered his shaky hands to exit out of George's stream with a breathless " _ shit _ ."

He lets the monitor that was previously playing George's stream fall asleep while he stays still as a statue, hand still hovering over his mouse. His discord server still runs erratically in the corner of his eye, but he pays no mind. 

Dream likes George.

No, Dream  _ loves  _ George.

And George more than likely doesn't feel the same way.

I mean, can you blame Dream for thinking that? The way George always shies away from his flirtatious chides and refuses to say 'I love you.' Any lovesick man would immediately think the feelings were not reciprocated. What sealed the deal for Dream was how George reacted on his latest stream, practically shutting down over that one donation. No wonder he seemed so emotionless during Jackbox, the poor guy. He's been harassed like this multiple times and it clearly must be making him uncomfortable.

_ Yeah, that must be it. _

Dream's top priority is George and his well being. He's overwhelmed enough as it is, and dumping these untamed and unfamiliar feelings on top of him is the last thing Dream should do. He wants George to feel happy and safe around him, not shy him away or scare him off.

Dream is scared. Scared of losing George and coming to terms with his feelings. His own necessities and closure are something he can live without if it means George is okay.

Semi-satisfied with his conclusion, Dream stretches and gets up from his gamer chair in favor of idly hovering by the windowsill.

Sighing, he gazes longingly out the window into the dark Floridan sky. The few stars that are visible seem to mock his problems, flickering back and forth out of existence. The moon is out tonight, and Dream distantly wonders if he and George are looking at the same moon. 

In one swift motion Dream opens the window, taking in a breath of fresh air and visibly relaxing. 

George and him are still best friends. Nothing will ever change that and that's okay. He's okay.

Closing his eyes, he breathes in once again through his nostrils and lets his thoughts wander to think about a certain colorblind British brunet.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowee, they're both idiots aren't they?
> 
> this definitely isn't my best work, but i honestly like it a lot better than the previous chapter. short and sweet! also, i may have an obsession with writing out dream's thoughts and him simping over george lmao.
> 
> thank you guys so much for reading or even just clicking on my work, i appreciate it so much!   
> comment or leave kudos perhaps?
> 
> have a wonderful day! <3


	3. two birds, finally soaring freely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Sapnap keeps noticing the tension between his two best friends, and decides to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! you wanted a happier ending, here's a happier ending(and some sapnap humor) :D
> 
> this isn't my best work, but i did get a few laughs out while writing this, so hopefully you'll feel the same!
> 
> reminder if the cc's ever express discomfort about fanfiction, this will be taken down. respect their boundaries!

Sapnap has dealt with tons of bullshit in his nineteen years of living on this planet, both the literal and the metaphorical type. But he would give anything to go back to working on a farm for volunteer work in Texas cleaning up animal shit than deal with whatever drama show was going on between his best friends Dream and George.

But if he wasn’t there to help his two oblivious friends out, who would be? 

He’s seen all the signs over the past few years. Subtle flirting, late night conversations, giddy jides, the list could go on and on. Other friends of theirs and even the fans have seen it all too. The only two who  _ haven’t  _ noticed are none other than Dream and George themselves. 

Please, how dense can two people be? This is like living as the third wheel or wingman of some terribly written fanfiction, and Sapnap isn’t having it at all. 

He’s sick and tired of revolving around their bullshit, so whatever happens tonight on his stream and then after, his overall goal is to finally open their eyes wide enough to see that they’re both practically infatuated with each other and it is indeed reciprocated.

Yeah, he has also received the backhand panic attacks via internet conversations from the pair about coming to terms with their feeling realisations and their stubborn beliefs that it was unrequited, no matter how many times Sapnap tried to convince them otherwise.

Communication is key in a blossoming relationship, but they both came to Sapnap simultaneously panicking. It was fairly difficult to keep up with, clicking back and forth relentlessly to George’s text messages and Dream’s discord DMs. How Sapnap managed to do it without losing all of his brain cells or popping a blood vein in irritation, he still doesn’t know. 

Sighing, Sapnap glances over at the time dimly illuminating his phone. He is able to glance at the number reading  _ 9:15  _ before his phone falls asleep and the screen turns pitch black. Getting up from his bed, he makes his way over to boot up his PC. Fifteen more minutes until he plans to stream. Hopping on TeamSpeak and trying to sort out the shit show between his two idiotic friends early is probably a much better idea than teasing them live for thousands of people to see.

Entering the TeamSpeak, Sapnap is alone. A quick glance to the side of his screen notifies that Dream and George are both online. 

_ Maybe they’re working this out themselves,  _ Sapnap foolishly thinks,  _ so I don’t have to deal with this anymore!  _

Directly afterwards the evil, evil, voice of “buddy joined your call!” rings through Sapnap’s headphones and George enters the TeamSpeak. 

“Hey,” he greets, still sounding as emotionless as ever. Sapnap suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. 

“George.” Sapnap responded, mimicking George’s tone but utterly failing and just speaking in deadpan. 

“Sapnap,” George repeats, obviously missing how Sapnap was trying to grab his attention. He sighs and tries again. 

“We need to-” he starts, but is interrupted. The stupid chime letting him know another one of his ‘buddies’ joined the call sounds, and Sapnap just about wants to rip the roots of his hair out in frustration.

“Hey,” Dream greets, and Sapnap is more than ready to throw himself outside his bedroom window.

The tension inside the voice chat is excruciatingly evident, unsaid words hanging by a thread between the three. The silence is so deafeningly quiet that Sapnap can easily make out the gentle whirr of his air conditioner unit and the low buzz emitted from his monitors. 

“Guys,” Sapnap started, unsure. He distantly wishes that he could use a knife to physically cut the tension in half and go back to being best friends playing a block game together. But alas, those two idiots  _ had  _ to fall in love with each other and lack important verbal communication.

“I- I’ll just start streaming now,” is what he settles for. He could no longer handle the distant coldness laced up inside the call and deems starting to stream early and talking animatedly with chat will shake some nerves back into place.

When the stream starts up and the viewers steadily roll in, Sapnap easily reverts back to his relaxed facade, and Dream and George promptly follow suit. It’s easy, putting up a persona for thousands of viewers and not having to worry about personal problems such as hopeless romantic best friends. He lets out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding and boots up Minecraft, more than ready to play his favorite game in the presence of his two favorite people.

As the stream went on and Sapnap steadily got more irritated at his busted speedrunning attempts, the tension slowly started building back. Dream and George, at first, were completely fine. Staying relatively quiet save for unimportant conversation and friendly chides whenever Sapnap messed up his runs. Something definitely crossed the boundaries, however, because they both went eerily silent just after half an hour of streaming. Sapnap had missed what was said, but the chat surely didn’t. The donations spoke a thousand words.

“ _ Why are Dream and George so quiet? Is it because of what George said earlier? Also, can you say happy birthday Sammie?”  _ The donation reads. Sapnap treads the waters ever so carefully with responding to this one.

“Happy birthday Sammie, thank you for the 10!” He cheerily responds at first, and decides to avoid the former question they had. However, the effort proves to be fruitless as the viewers catch on and relentlessly ask the same questions over and over.

“Jesus, I don’t know,” Sapnap suddenly breaks, a little over the edge of irritation, “why  _ are  _ you guys being so quiet?” Well, Sapnap knew the half of it. They’re still not over the high of  _ I have a crush on my best friend and he definitely doesn’t like me back even though I never asked him about it!  _ But prodding on and letting them admit it themselves seems to be a much better, and admittedly more fun option.

“We’re not?” Dream rebutes, and has the audacity to sound confused. 

“Please,” Sapnap replies, fully annoyed at this point, “the mood has been off, like, the entire stream.”

“I didn’t notice,” Dream says snarkily, starting to sound irritated as well. 

“Really?” Lone laced full of sarcasm and pure annoyance, Sapnap drags on at the sensitive topic. “You haven’t noticed what’s been happening the past week either, then?”

“Sapnap,” George suddenly butts in, and Sapnap can easily hear the unsaid part of “ _ we’re still on stream, let’s do this later, alright?”  _ Sapnap sighs and focuses back on the game. Chat is running rampant at this point, so he pitifully tries to put out a bit of the fire.

“Chat, it’s fine. Let’s just continue trying to break my PB, yeah?”

God, he had  _ lots  _ to say once this stream was over.

¤¸¸.•´¯`•¸¸.•..>>

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” Sapnap snaps, after ending his stream. He closes out Minecraft and his Twitch moderating tab, leaving one of his monitors illuminating with a rather awkward TeamSpeak conversation. His words ring out and hover in the air as he waits for someone,  _ anyone _ , to respond. 

Belatedly, Dream replies, “I don’t know what you mean,” but after years of friendship, Sapnap can easily see under his calm facade. 

“Clay, George, my dudes. My bros, my homies, even.” he starts, leaning against his chair and shifting to get into a more comfortable position, because who knows how long this is gonna last. “This is tearing you two apart.”

“What is?” George asks, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Either both of his friends are the most foolish people on the planet, or poor Georgie over here is avoiding the topic. 

“Oh, puh-lease. It’s not like I haven’t noticed. The way you’re practically emotionless now, and how Dream avoids every question related to you like his life depends on it.”

“I’m not-”

“I don’t-”

“Oh, save it!” Sapnap exclaims, slamming his fists on his desk. It’s now or never. “You two literally came to talk to me, what, a few days ago? At the same time! And you didn’t even know!”

“Sap-”

“What-” 

Sapnap manages to let out a sly grin, his slight stubble tickling around the edges, making this exchange all the more humorous. Tone growing slightly softer, he says, “Do you guys still not understand?”

He hears shuffling from someone’s end, though he can’t quite tell who. “I- not really,” Dream finally mutters. George doesn’t respond, seeming preoccupied with something.

  
“George?” Sapnap asks, praying that he at least has some sort of brain left inside his head.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” More shuffling, and a gentle  _ click!  _ of something snapping shut. “My stupid window keeps opening on its own.” 

_ Huh.  _ “You guys are actually so braindead.” Words cannot fathom the increasing annoyance he is starting to feel about how stupid his friends are acting, so what’s better than straight up insulting them?

“Then, my dear Sappy-nappy, enlighten us. Because you apparently know sooo much more about whatever situation we’re in than we do.” This earns a light chuckle from both the brunets. As serious as this situation is supposed to be, good-natured sarcasm always helps lighten the mood a little when needed. 

Sapnap takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what is about to come. He figures the best way to do this is to tell them upfront, because they won’t understand any other way.

“Dreamie. Remember a couple days ago when you came to me with a little... predicament of yours?” 

He hears Dream laugh nervously on his end. “Let- let’s not talk about that here.” 

“Oh, we are. And George,” he exclaims, before Dream can interrupt him, “when you came to me too, the same day actually. With the same problem, may I add.” 

The indirect confession of feelings results in piercing silence. Sapnap considers the lack of confusion from both parties a win, as they’re finally  _ finally  _ understanding what this means between the two of them. He crosses his arms and sinks down into his chair, allowing himself to up the volume of his headphones to hear each and every word that was soon to come. 

“Do you mean-” Dream starts, then falters. “Sapnap, you’re not joking, are you?”

“Nope!” Sapnap practically singsongs. Oh, does victory feel sweet. 

“Dream-”

  
“George-”

Then the two erupt in laughter. High pitched wheezes from the blond, followed by stifled giggles from the oldest of the three, sneak their way into the call and inside of Sapnap’s ears like church bells. 

“Wait, wait, so you’re saying-” George starts, but gets interrupted too easily by his airy giggles. Dream picks back up for him.

“-that we uh,  _ like  _ each other?” 

_ Well, that was easy. _

“Holy shit. It’s not unrequited. Dream-” George starts again, his tone going sickenly fond and laced with such a careful intimacy that Sapnap feels like he’s intruding. And when the pair break into hushed, lovestruck giggles, Sapnap takes that as his cue to leave.

“Fucking  _ finally.  _ Have fun, you two. I need something to eat.” 

And when Sapnap leaves the call, feeling utterly accomplished and like the smartest man on Earth, he takes a moment to recollect history between his two best friends, and how it should have been obvious from the beginning. 

And later, when he’s relishing in his victory over a cup of iced tea, an open window letting the cool Texas nighttime air in, and a takeout burger, he glances over at his idle monitor to see that the two lovebirds are  _ still  _ in their private TeamSpeak, so he takes a moment to appreciate himself and his uttermost amazing best friends for crossing this bridge of foreign relationships and shared love.

“Tomorrow,” he vows to no one in particular, “will be a good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this satisfies you guys! i enjoyed writing sapnap's POV, i'm definitely going to experiment with it more often.
> 
> comments & kudos are very much appreciated! ty guys so much for all the love on the previous chapters, i'm still relatively surprised on how so many people actually find my works worthwhile to read
> 
> thank you for taking this journey of a fanfic with me. it definitely doesn't live up to "the reveal", but i'm still proud of it nonetheless, and i hope you like it too :)

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, that wasn't very well thought out haha.
> 
> thoughts? constructive criticism? should i make a happier ending or no?
> 
> comments & kudos are appreciated!
> 
> also, thank you guys so much for the love on my first ever fic. i never expected it to get a few kudos, let alone over a thousand hits! i appreciate that more than you know<3


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